Unspeakable Peace:Sheltered in the Arms of God

It may sound really strange to some, but it was the most beautiful death I have ever witnessed.

The last couple of months have just been unbelievable. Someone texted me a couple of weeks ago and said, "How are you?" I replied, "Exhausted, thankful, sad, amazed, scared and at peace." At that point, both my parents were in the hospital, just 2 weeks after my oldest brother passed away unexpectedly.

My brother's death seemed to be "the big event" of my life so far. Kevin was the oldest of us four, and there was no warning that anything was wrong that could take him from us so soon.  Little did I know that just two weeks later to the day, our saddest chapter would begin to unravel even further when my mom was admitted to the hospital, and just six days after that my dad would also end up there.

We thought Mom would be okay after a few days. She was released to go to rehab just one day after my dad moved into a room just around the corner from hers. She was doing well at therapy, and after five days, my dad was well enough to join her at the rehab facility. They even got to share a room! Mom commented that they would pretend they were on vacation in a luxury resort. They were so happy to finally be together again.

That happiness was short-lived. Just the following day, Mom began having some problems. My sister said that all morning, she felt worried about Mom. She worried so much, she took a break at work long enough to call the rehab hospital to check on her. She said she just had a gut-feeling that something wasn't right. She left work and went over, and sure enough, Mom was very sick. She called for an ambulance and they headed to the ER.

Dad called me as they were leaving and was absolutely hysterical. He wanted to go with her to the hospital, and of course as a patient, he wasn't allowed to leave. He had never acted so desperate before. I assured him she would be okay, and I headed out the door to go sit with him until we got word about Mom. Since his diagnosis of pancreatic cancer over a year ago, he seems to be more emotional. Looking back, I believe he sensed how serious it was this time.

When I got to rehab, Dad was a mess. He was crying uncontrollably. He was saying if I didn't take him to be with her, he would walk out and get there himself..and I know him well enough to know he would try it! Mom was admitted a little later that night and I arranged to take Dad out of rehab and to the hospital to see her the next day. 

When we got there, she was pitiful.

Mom had always been anxiety-ridden. She didn't handle stressful situations very well at all. They had her on a breathing machine that covered her face, and it was evident that she was in a full-blown panic attack. It was so hard seeing her that way. We all knew that she felt like she was smothering because she couldn't stand something over her face. It was awful.

That night, the doctor told my sister and me to come in the next morning prepared to make some difficult decisions. Mom wasn't responding to treatment. She was in multiple organ failure. The next 24 hours would be critical.

I really dreaded even getting up the next morning. We were going to have to decide whether to keep up trying to save her or to let her slip peacefully, without all the needle pokes and machines constantly beeping. I drug myself out of bed, picked up my dad and we headed to the hospital.

When I walked in the room, I was stunned. Mom was sitting up, no mask on her face, smiling and talking. "Hey, honey!", she said, as I walked into the room. You could have knocked me over with a feather! She looked completely healed!

Most of the family showed up that day since word had gotten around of how sick she was. We had to close the door of the ICU unit for fear we would be thrown out because of the laughter and conversation that went on all day! We were all so happy to see her feeling so much better, and Dad was so relieved to see some improvement.

We kept asking Mom if we were wearing her out, but she kept saying no and that she loved having all of us there. She asked me to come over so she could tell me what happened to her the night before, the night she was in such bad shape that the doctors had all but given up. Mom began telling of a supernatural experience, one that she said most wouldn't believe.

My brother, Mark, had stepped out of the room, and soon after, she heard the curtain of the ICU unit open. She assumed it was him returning. It wasn't. She described it to me like this: "Do you see that door over there (pointing)? That's where He came in. I heard the curtain pull back, and I looked up and there He was. Jesus! He walked straight over here (as she points a line over the path he took) and He laid His hand on my shoulder. He looked me straight in the eyes, and He said, 'You're going to be ok.'  Now I don't know if He meant I'm going to get better here, or if He is going to take me home with Him, but He told me that so I believe Him! Not only did I hear Him and see Him, but I felt Him. His power ran through my whole body. I felt the power of God in a way I have never experienced before!"

Just two days later, the doctors said her stats were starting to decline again. Every day, things looked a little more bleak than the day before. By day four, they had decided that there was nothing more that they could do. My mom and dad both decided they would come home and be in the care of hospice so she could pass into eternity from home.

The day they came home, both of them felt a great sense of relief. They were finally together again! Mom had not had any pain, and her usual state of anxiety in these type situations was noticeably absent. She smiled every time she opened her eyes. She told us all repeatedly how much she loved us. She was clear and aware, knowing who everyone was and even asking by name for those she knew hadn't been to see her. She kept asking when our family Christmas would be..we were planning it a week early so she could be here with us. She held on for that. She held on for Dad. She held on for us.

Mom was experiencing total peace. She never shed a tear, there was never a word spoken by her about her inevitable death being scary, which was totally unlike her. She kept saying, "Whether I stay or whether I go, I'm sheltered in the arms of God." She told us not to cry for her. She told us she would see us there. She was graceful. She was calm. Some of her last words, while she was still able to talk, were, "Total peace. I'm at total peace."

The day after our Christmas gathering, Mom became more and more still. She slept deeper as the day went on, but could still open her eyes and try to respond when we talked to her. By the time Dad went to bed around midnight, she had fallen into a deep sleep. Dad was afraid to go to sleep, so we prayed before I left the room. I prayed that God would take her if she couldn't get better, and I asked Him for mercy in her death that she wouldn't suffer by smothering or hurting. I asked specifically that He would just let her stop breathing when He was ready to take her, and to let her take her last breath here on earth and her next breath in Heaven.

An hour and twenty-five minutes later, I was standing by her side, holding her hand, when she just stopped breathing. It was that simple. There was no gasp, no struggle, no anxiety, no fear. She took her last breath here and the next in Heaven.

Jesus promised her He would take care of her. He touched her body, spirit and and soul in the hospital that day. His peace and comfort have enveloped us all in a way that can only be explained by a touch from God. We didn't want to let Mom go, but we wanted her to be at peace.

I believe she is. I believe she is okay because my Jesus came to comfort her and told her she would be. He told her she would be okay, and I believe she is even better than okay. I believe that today she is sheltered in the arms of God. There is no greater peace to be had.

Philippians 4:7(NIV)

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Broken Sis with a Broken Wrist

My family, with my big brother Kevin in the middle.

It's been a hard week. Actually, it's been a hard several weeks, but this past week takes the cake.

As I type this with one hand due to my broken right wrist, I am looking down at the cards and notes that have been sent to us this week. I am in awe of how loved we are and we didn't even know it. I am so thankful for friends and family who gathered around us in a time of need to hold us together. I'm thankful for friends who fed us and cleaned for us, and for money and gift cards for food and groceries that were collected to help replace my lost income. Each day I was met with kind and compassionate words through cards, texts, visits and phone calls. My goodness, how people have loved on us!

This awful saga began a few weeks ago just after a relaxing cabin trip with friends during fall break. We were cleaning up around the yard when I decided it would be a good idea to clean out the unused playhouse in our back yard. I carefully stepped inside the rope climbing ladder to reach further into the playhouse, gathered my arms full of things and then stepped back, one foot successfully and the other...well, not. As I was going down in what seemed like a slo-mo movie, I was actually thinking, "Don't put your hands down!", but apparently God thought it would be a great idea to wire us up to do just exactly that when we fall. So, at the very last minute, down went my right hand. "Crunnnccchhh!" I heard it. I felt it. I knew without a doubt that it was not only broken, but messed up badly. I sat there dreading to look, but I finally got my nerve up. It looked sort of like an accordion.

I actually had a question to God run through my mind right then: "Does this mean I am going to be needed by Mom and Dad?" I feared the worst was approaching. Dad had not been doing well for several weeks. Maybe I needed to be out of commission to be available to them? I had no idea how much they were going to need me.

A few days after my injury, I had surgery to repair my wrist. My oldest brother, Kevin, who lived about 3 hours away, called me. He said he was worried about me and wanted to help. He was coming the next weekend to take care of Mom and Dad's needs since I couldn't. He said while he was here that he wanted to cook us dinner and drop it by. He made us an enormous pan of baked spaghetti (one side without meat just for me!), complete with bread, salad and chocolate marble cheesecake for dessert. He hung around a few minutes when he came with the food and we talked. He talked about the lot he was grading down for the house he was building. He talked about his grandkids and what amazing things they say and do. He talked about Mom and Dad and funny things they said that day while he was there. It was just a normal visit, with normal conversation and a normal goodbye hug when he left. I watched him back his new truck down my driveway, and I cringed as I heard the hitch on the back scrape the pavement as he backed onto the road. I waved as he drove away, not knowing because of the darkness if he saw me or not. I saw the orange lights on the running boards of the truck. I admired how clean and shiny his trucks always are. That was the last time I saw him. As I type those words, I'm still in disbelief that I will never see my brother on this earth again.

The week after I saw him last, he would leave this world for eternity. Looking back, we can all see warning signs that he was pushing too hard..working incessantly and not getting enough rest, not taking care of his health like he should, pushing his body to it's limit. But, this is Kevin we are talking about. He has done that his entire life! What he did on the days leading up to his death was nothing different from any other day in his world. But on that day, November 8, 2018, his heart had reached it's breaking point. It simply stopped beating. And just like that, this man, this invincible, unstoppable man, was gone.

I had lost my big brother, and that is not something you can ever prepare to do. My parents, though, had lost a son. Their first son, the one they had when they were just newlywed teens living in Germany while my dad served in the Army. Their baby boy.

My dad had been declining for a couple of weeks before this tragedy struck our family. He was having such extreme back pain, possibly related to his pancreatic cancer, that he ended up in the emergency room and urgent care a couple of times in the weeks prior to Kevin's passing. He had been spending more and more time lying in bed, which is the only relief he could get from hurting.

My phone had rung at 7:00 am that Thursday morning. My sister said Kevin's wife, Valerie, heard him fall and ran to check on him. She quickly realized how serious the situation was, so she called for help and began CPR. Just a few minutes after we hung up, my sister called again. This time, all I heard was Marla screaming my name. I knew he was gone. My knees went weak. I froze for a while, trying to wrap my head around what I had just been told. My next thought was that I need to get to Mom and Dad.

They had already been told when I got there. Dad was lying on the bed crying, and mom was sitting in her recliner crying the "mom who has lost her child" cry. The rest of that day seems like one big blurry picture. All I really remember afterwards was that Dad was not doing well. His blood sugar reached over 600 and wouldn't respond to insulin. His blood pressure was out the roof. About 11:00 p.m., we headed to the ER.

After several doses of insulin and some monitoring, they let us leave about 5:30 a.m. I took Dad home and tucked him in bed. He was crying himself to sleep as I slipped out the door. I drove home and looked at the clock, realizing I had only an hour and a half until my post-op doctor's appointment to get my stitches out and a new cast on. I laid down wearing the clothes I had on, got up about 30 minutes later and headed out the door to my appointment.

The nurse cut off my splint and I saw my arm for the first time. Right then and there, the events of the past 24 hours spilled out of my heart. I lost it. I mean, I completely lost it. I think I scared the poor nurse to death. She thought I was afraid to have the stitches removed! She had no idea what the past day had been for me. The stitches were just the final straw that broke the camel's back.

For the next several days, my dad could hardly sit up. He wasn't able to stand without help. He wasn't able to walk, even on his walker, without help. He wouldn't eat. He laid in the bed in the only position he could that he didn't hurt. Mom cried on and off all day. Everywhere she looked there was a reminder of Kevin: the ceramic apple cookie jar on the top of the cabinet. The Donald Trump doll in the sunroom. The red can opener on the kitchen counter. The violet he carried in to her the last time he came. His mark is all over that house. He spent the last several years making sure they knew how much he loved them. 

I will quote our former pastor by saying, "Everybody's hurting." You never know what someone is going through. Life has a way of kicking you in the gut at times. Sometimes we just have to stand on up and keep going, even though our legs are collapsing underneath us, and sometimes we need to lie down in the middle of Stone Drive during lunchtime traffic because we can't take another step, and just pray we don't get run over.

Be kind. Be compassionate. Love on your neighbors, hold up your friends when they are weak. Feed them when they are hungry, and cry with them when they are sad.

Love your family and cherish every moment you spend together. Don't just live every day like it's your last..live it like it could be theirs. Life is short. Life is fleeting. Life is precious, every single one.

1 Peter 4:10(NIV)

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.

Galatians 6:2(NIV)
Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.

1 Peter 3:8(NIV)

Suffering for Doing Good

Finally, all of you, be like-minded, be sympathetic, love one another, be compassionate and humble.

Hang on, Baby

When my boys were babies, I heard a Christian speaker say that when her kids were small, she had a rule of never being the first to let go when they gave her a hug. She believed that sometimes kids won’t come to their parents and say, “I’m scared”, “Im stressed”, “I need to feel loved”, and other feelings children struggle with sometimes. If you pay close attention, though, you can often read these things by observing their actions.

After hearing this, I made a conscious choice to always parent by that thought. When my toddlers came up and climbed onto my lap, I never had them sit down beside me instead. Sometimes I had all of them sitting on me at once, and sometimes my legs went numb! Still, I made a choice to let them hang on as long as they needed. I also did the “no limit hugging” the speaker suggested. As they got bigger, I never quit practicing this habit, and my boys never quit hugging. Some of their hugs were short and sweet. Sometimes the hugs were ambush hugs, where they ran up while my hands were occupied in dishwater or bread dough and gave me a quick on-the-run hug. Many times, though, the hugs were long. Awkwardly long. Those were the hugs I knew they needed most. 

My boys are 22, 20 and 14 now, and the rule still applies. Just a couple of weeks ago, one of my sons was going through a trial that created a lot of stress for him. He stepped up to give me a hug, and I wrapped my arms around his waist as he laid his head on my shoulder. He stayed. He stayed a long time. This boy, who is expected to be a man and who takes pride in handling things himself, needed to know he wasn’t alone. He needed to feel safe, loved and protected. 

I think about those hugs I’ve gotten like that over the years. I feel thankful that my boys know that no matter what they are going through that Mom is right here with them through whatever comes. I love my boys and want them to always think of me as constant, reliable and available. I want them to feel like no matter what, Mom will be there for them.

I don’t know how to fix all my sons’ problems, and I don’t always know how to tell them how to solve them. I do know that no matter what life throws at them, it comforts them to know that someone has their backs. The power in a genuine, heart-felt hug can make everything seem ok, at least for a moment. And knowing that door is always open, and that you can hang on as long as you need, is sometimes enough to get you through another day. 

R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Here is What it Means to Me

In light of Aretha Franklin's recent death, I have found myself thinking a lot about respect. R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Aretha said to find out what it means to me, so here goes!!

To respect is defined as admire (someone or something) deeply, as a result of their abilities, qualities, or achievements. Some synonyms of respect are esteem, admire, think highly of, hold in high regard, hold in (high) esteem, look up to, revere, reverence, and honor.

Respect is not a rite of passage...respect has to be earned. For example, it is difficult to truly respect rude, selfish people when they show no regard for anyone but themselves. It is also difficult to respect lazy people when others have to carry the load they refuse to carry. It's hard to respect liars, thieves, cheaters and troublemakers. 

It's hard to respect those who have no self-respect. Self-respect is defined as "pride and confidence in oneself; a feeling that one is behaving with honor and dignity." When someone behaves in a dishonorable manner, it rarely elicits respect from others. If anything, respect that was previously established can be gone in seconds with a disrespectful attitude or action. 

Sometimes, respect has to be demanded. In these cases, you may have to walk away from someone because they refuse to treat you respectfully, or you may have to stand up to them and make it known you won't tolerate being treated disrespectfully. Either way, once someone believes they can treat you disrespectfully and you allow it to continue, chances are at that point they really have no respect for you at all, and probably never will. The only way to ever receive respect in this case is by demanding it. Standing up and demanding respect may actually cause them to have respect for you! Most people don't respect a pushover. If you draw a clear line and the other person still can't show you respect, you may have to walk away from that person. Walking away from someone who is disrespectful may actually cause you to have more respect for yourself, once you take the bull by the horns and think of yourself as a valuable person worthy of respect.

If you are prone to being disrespectful, you may not even realize that it is lowering your own chances of being respected yourself. People around you notice your words and attitude, and most are turned off pretty quickly by someone who likes to cut others down to size or make them appear "less-than". Disrespectful people try to appear confident and strong, but in reality they show weakness and insecurity in themselves. A confident and strong person realizes early on they are not in competition with anyone.

We have all been on both sides of the spectrum at one time or another. When I was young and inexperienced, I didn't realize "cute and sassy" or bossy behavior was, in reality, disrespect at it's finest. I also grew to realize that as a helpful, caring, decent person, I deserved to be treated as something of value myself. I have found that the more respect you have for yourself and the more respect you show others, the higher you are esteemed by others along the way. Its a win/win! 

A respectful person strives to admire the good qualities in others and lifts them up, encouraging them along the way. A person with self-respect wants to be seen as someone to be admired and looked up to, and they practice behaviors that result in just that. 

There are many ways to show respect, and few of them require much effort. You can show respect to someone by engaging in what they are saying to you, by opening a door for them or by motioning them in front of you in the Pal's line. You can mow your grass clippings onto your own yard rather than into the road or onto your neighbor's property, and you can show up at appointments or meetings on time, or at least call if you're running late. You can throw trash into a trashcan instead of throwing it into a parking lot or onto the road. Ironically, you can also earn respect by doing all these same things. 

Other ways to earn respect is to practice moral behavior (Titus 2:7-8 NIV). Be honest, be trustworthy, and be faithful (Proverbs 12:22 NIV). Work hard and don't complain (Colossians 3:23 NIV). Think of others before yourself (Romans 12:10 NIV), and treat others the way you would like to be treated (Matthew 7:12 NIV). 

It's pretty simple, R-E-A-L-L-Y. 

R-E-S-P-E-C-T (Sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me)..A little respect (just a little bit!) 😉

It's a Short Life After All

Portrait of Dad and Me

Looking back on life, I've known many sweet souls who have finished this race on earth and have gone on to eternity. I still think often of each of my grandparents, and I remember going through the final days with all of them.

At the time, from my younger perspective, I remember being at peace with the idea of death, especially when someone has been blessed to live so many years. What a blessing to get to raise your children, see them establish their own lives and families, and to have the privilege of living to old age.

Now, I'm watching as my dad faces his final days, weeks or months here in this life. For some reason, it doesn't feel so natural for someone to die this time. Don't get me wrong, my dad is a Christian. We have had many sweet conversations about his faith and I know he will be in Heaven, so in that way I will be thankful when his suffering here is over!

I hope it's a long while before the cancer my dad is fighting gets the better of him, but realistically, he has already outlived the typical lifespan after diagnosis. Most make it 3 to 6 months with pancreatic cancer. Dad was diagnosed 10 months ago. Every day is bonus time.

The hardest part about this impending transition from earth to Heaven is the fact that my dad doesn't feel finished here. He says all the time, "I'm ready to go, but I'm just not ready to go." I think it would be easier if he was tired and wanted to go, but it breaks my heart that he still wants so desperately to live.

Life is just so, so fast. I remember as a child trying to imagine being an adult. I imagined being married and having kids, and that seemed so far away at the time. Now, here I am, all that accomplished and heading quickly toward retirement age myself, and the thoughts of dreaming about my future when I was a child still don't seem that long ago. I think about the times that my grandparents died, my parents were around my age now, and like a flash of lightening, here I am in those same shoes. Just as quickly, my kids will stand here too. Life is so fast.

I asked Dad one day to imagine he didn't know his actual age, and if he didn't know, how old he feels like He should be. He is 81 in actual years, but when he thought about it, he said he feels around 60. I am 52, and when I think how old I feel like I should be, I feel around 30. It's not like we actually feel physically like we did at those younger ages, it's that the mind can't comprehend that those years have passed and that we actually are that old. It doesn't seem possible that so much of our lives is spent, gone away and never to be had again.

I was having this discussion with a customer last week. She was saying she always thought if we get to live into our 80s we are blessed. I agree, we are! But when you are the one facing death in your 80s and you only feel 60, you feel sort of cheated. You feel like there's more life to be had, more things you want to do, more things you want to experience.

I have noticed that Dad's mindset hasn't changed, despite his failing body. He still knows how to do things and he still has a desire to do them, but his body won't allow him to do much anymore. He feels useless and frustrated. He tries so hard to keep going and to still do what he can, but there's so much he just can't do anymore. He has days when the thought of his looming death seems to haunt him. I see him feeling depressed and sad much of the time...contrary to his usual witty, energetic self. When he does have a good day, we make the most of it.

Life is just so, so fast. Slow down, enjoy every minute. Even the bad times don't last forever. Focus on the blessings you have right in front of you at this minute. Thank God for blessings you had, the blessings you have and the blessings you will have. All are sweet, and all are fleeting.

Thank God for His promise that those of us who accept Him in our hearts will be together in eternity forever. No more cancer, no more sadness, no more fear. Knowing this in my heart is all that keeps me going. I thank God for this hope of Heaven.

If you or someone you love is suffering tonight and you don't have this promise, please don't wait. Call on Jesus. This crazy place is a trial run..a big, ol', sometimes cruddy, sometimes wonderful, trial run. This is not all there is! Make sure your salvation is firmly rooted in Christ. Speak to those you love about Him. Make sure when you stand in these shoes that you know it's not goodbye forever. You don't have long. Life is so, so fast.

Romans 10:9
If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.

Revelation 21:1-7

Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them.They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!”Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life. Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children.

I Wish I Had Your Eyes!

One of my favorite things to say to Dave is, "I wish I had your eyes!"  That typically follows an event like him digging through a drawer, convinced that the pen he is searching for isn't there, leaving me to walk up, reach to the left corner of the drawer just under the notepads and beside the super glue and pull out the pen..without even having to look.

Or, it may be as he carries a no-bake cookie across the room, crumbs falling as he takes bites out of it, asking, "What?!" As I look at him disapprovingly because of the trail he leaves behind...that I will have to clean up, and that he is completely oblivious about! Yes. I wish I had those eyes! It's amazing what we don't see when we aren't looking!

We are all guilty of seeing life only through the lenses of our own eyes. We get up each day and go about our business, asking ourselves things like, "What do I want to eat today?" or , "How much time do I need to get this done?" We may think, "I hate that color of blue!" or, "I'm too tired to workout today." Basically, our thoughts tend to center around us..what we want, what we like, how we feel. We can't help it, really. We were born selfish.

Psalm 51:5 NIV 
Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me.

It's through our own eyes that we filter nearly every word or act before us. Think about the last time you were frustrated over a project or task gone-wrong. As you were in the middle of trying to get the thing back into order, imagine your wife comes in and announces she just wrecked the car. She apologizes, and even cries a little in the process. How many times do we get angry in a situation like this? Lots of times!! We perceive those kinds of events as a personal attack. You might think thoughts like, "I've told her about that curve in the road...she should have driven slower around it! She knows I'm already having a bad day! Just dry up the tears..I'm the one who should be crying!!"

I know I have done that sort of thinking quite often. It's so tempting to see only through our own lenses, forgetting that the other person may be feeling even worse than we are in that moment. Maybe the woman in this scenario has been under extreme stress at work. Maybe she was just in a hurry to get home. Either way, most don't wreck a car on purpose.

Although this is a fictitious account between a husband and wife, how often does this illustrate how we deal with others, even (or maybe especially!) the ones we love the most? How often do we feel like the other person was neglecting our feelings or just straight out abused our feelings?

Looking through our own lenses causes us to get hurt or mad at what someone says because we think they were throwing an insult at us, when maybe the words being said had nothing to do with us at all. It causes us to get frustrated at the person in front of us at the grocery store because they don't notice us trying to get through the aisle they are blocking. It causes us to block the aisle ourselves because we need a certain kind of potato chips that we can't readily find! It is dangerous to live life only looking through our own eyes. When we do, we dishonor God Himself. He teaches us to think of our brothers and sisters and to have compassion and empathy for them.

Philippians 2:1-4
Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. 

When you close this page and go about your day, I hope you'll be inspired to lay down your lenses for a while. Put on a new pair...someone else's might be good. See what you see when you really take time to look. Maybe someone else will see your love and compassion for others and will say to you, "I wish I had your eyes!"

How Great is Thou Art

When my son was in kindergarten, he painted me a picture. It was awful! The tree was the wrong color, and the grass was scribbled in a side-to side manner, instead of vertical, like grass is supposed to be! The clouds weren't at all realistic, and the flowers were way out of proportion to the rest of the background. I was ashamed of it! I would never want anyone else to see it. I wanted to throw if in the trash where it belongs!

How terrible of a mother do you think I am? Well, actually, I just made that whole story up! If you have been in my house, you have probably seen much of my boys' artwork proudly displayed for all to see. Because I love them so, I think everything they create is a masterpiece! I look at that sideways grass and think it looks perfect. I love that the flowers are huge! I love that their little minds saw the world in an unconventional way, and I love that they thought it was okay to paint a tree pink. They weren't held back by rules and opinions created by others. They painted the world as they envisioned it to be in their minds. They ran in the door the day they finished it, excited to present it to me and to see my excitement as well.

In my line of work, styling hair, I often hear people critique themselves negatively. They don't like their ears, they don't like their nose, they see themselves as too short or too heavy. People with dark hair wish they were blonde, and people with blonde hair wish they were brunette.

I think often about how sad our opinions of ourselves makes God, The God Who created us exactly like He planned. He put much thought into what color of hair we would have, and whether we would be tall or short. He took little pieces of our mother and father, and our grandparents and other ancestors for thousands of years, and combined each little detail to make us "Us".

What must He think when He sees us look in the mirror with disgust? Do we break His heart that we dislike ourselves so much? In His eyes, we are wonderfully made!

Think for a moment about my previous story. Were you imagining the look on my child's face at the thought of me degrading him? Were you feeling sympathy for how hard he worked, only for me to totally disregard his effort? Would you ever think of reacting the way I pretended to react earlier to an Almighty God, our Creator, if He Himself handed us a hand-painted original He created just for us?

Don't break God's heart. Embrace who He made you to be. Love what He created and appreciate His vision for who you were supposed to be. You are beautiful, and you are exactly who you are supposed to be. Show Him how pleased you are with his artwork!

Psalm 139:14 NIV

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.